


and they call me under

by writingjunkie



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, a lot of Angst actually, nicky and erik's love story, nicky is ooc and i'm sorry but also not, nicky pre-germany
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20171839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingjunkie/pseuds/writingjunkie
Summary: After a summer at a conversion camp, Nicholas Hemmick is halfway through his junior year and only barely surviving it. When his German professor recommends to him a trip halfway around the world, his life finally shifts to the better.Alternatively: Nicky's journey to becoming the Nicky we all know and love. Based off of the one scene where Nicky tells Neil about his past.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fanfic for AFTG I've written and the first fanfic I've posted on Ao3. It's also unbeta-ed so fingers crossed it'll be a good one :) Also just a heads up, trigger warning for both this chapter and the future chapters: suicidal thoughts are a main theme of this story. Be safe and enjoy my friendsss

At seventeen, Nicholas Hemmick didn’t know much about religion, but he did know this; That every human must have two sins: one that was meant to be kept hidden and one that was meant to hide.

For Nicholas, the latter was lying. He’d lied when he said he liked soccer for reasons other than the calves of the center forward, he lied to his classmates when they asked about the camp he’d spent his summer at, and he lied over his peas and carrots at the dinner table when he smiled through gritted teeth at his father. “The first day was great, Dad.”

It was an obvious lie if he ever told one. His winter break had consisted solely of leading the youth Christmas church groups (not working on the pageant or singing in the choir, even he would never be able to tell a good enough lie to let his Dad allow that), volunteering (at St. Mary’s food bank and the Salvation Army because where else would he be), and hoping to die (which was the only honest part of the entire two weeks). Somehow school had managed to make that worse, which he didn’t think was possible.

His dad didn’t smile back, not even at his plate which was seemingly taking up all of his attention. Instead, his mother smiled at him wearily. She always smiled wearily at him nowadays. “That’s great, Nicholas.”

Great was an easy lie. It didn’t really mean anything, but it kept the peace and that seemed to be Nicholas’s job nowadays.

When he didn’t answer, she cleared her throat and continued. “It’s almost spring. Baseball season,” she said in an almost singsong voice. “I’m sure you’re excited.”

Baseball was undoubtedly worse than soccer and everyone around that table would tell you the same thing. But his mother was mentioning it for reasons other than sport and they both knew it.

Nicholas cleared his throat, forced his teeth to grit closer, just as his mom finished her thought. “Are you and Murph going to opening day this year?”

They hit exactly as he thought they would.

Murphy Alvarez hadn’t spoken to him since last May. It was surprising how quickly coming out could tear apart a friendship, even if it was one that had lasted since the third day of kindergarten when Nicholas stuck a crayon up his nose.

Nicholas swallowed hard, hard enough to force down the. “Maybe.” He placed his knife fork down on his plate, crossed in the middle the way his mother always did. “May I be excused?”

The truth was a fragile thing to play with. Especially when, like with Nicholas, the truth was the sin you were hiding.

He could swallow it down, wash it down with soccer practices and church groups and the straight and narrow wherever he could, but he always knew there was no fighting it. In his room, with the door shut, lying on his bed, it engulfed him like fire catching on dry brush.

Nicholas didn’t notice the tears were coming until they were there. He pressed his fists into his eyes, gulped down the sobs before his parents could hear them.

He knew he could never be the kind of son his parents were looking for. If there was anything he had learned from camp, it was that. He was broken. Not the broken that meant gentle hands and wishes for a speedy recovery, the kind of broken that meant he would never be fixed. In all of Nicholas Hemmick’s life, the one thing he had ever known for certain was that he wanted to be fixed.

Nicholas thumbed at a piece of paper tucked into his pocket, pulling it into one of his clenched hands. He seemed to carry it on him more often than not these days. _Just in case, _he’d tell himself every morning. He wondered when “in case” would become reality. He didn’t even have to look at it anymore; he’d read his suicide note to himself so many times the words were burned into his irises, floated there when he could stop it. _I’m sorry, Mom. I really tried._

He’d written it months ago at this point. He couldn’t say he didn’t want it anymore. Not when it was always there. Always gnawing at his mind, a slow grate against his heart.

It wasn’t that Nicholas Hemmick didn’t want to live anymore. Deep, deep down, the human part of him wanted to stay on this Earth as long as possible. He just couldn’t keep living like this. Not when everything was so fragile and dangerous and not him. Every day that passed was a game: him or this lie. One would go first and Nicholas knew he wouldn’t survive it either way.

Nicholas turned onto his side, curling into a small knot on his bed. The words of the paper swung in steady circles around his head, his handmade mobile to put him to sleep. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh so it's been a week and here's the next chapter. Still un-beta-ed, but I think it turned out okay??  
I'm hoping to post every Friday but I'm also starting school this week so we'll see how that goes *shrug*  
Also some things I had to clear up about this work:
> 
> 1) Although this is a Nicky fic, the actual Nicky-ness will only be noticeable in later chapters. Sorry for all my Nicky fans.  
2) Based off of the Nicky from the books, I think he would really, really care about making his parents happy, especially after the camp they sent him to, and that's why I characterized him the way I did. I think it would be unfair to assume that he would always be as ~*fabulously gay*~ as he is in the future, especially with such religious values being forced upon him. So that is a thing.  
3) The title is from "I of the Storm" by Of Monsters and Men. Good song, give it a listen  
4) Thank you for all the support it makes me smile and also makes me super anxious, but those aren't mutually exclusive so I guess that's good.  
5) I suck at notes especially ending them and also chapter titles blarghhh just read and enjoy I guess??  
6) also also also I've said also too many times and now it doesn't feel real aH okay I'm done enjoy

In the past few months, Nicholas’s experience of time felt more like shaping glass. Sometimes, it was liquid. It would stretch out, feeling ever expansive and never-ending. And sometimes, probably on the worse days but Nicholas could never tell anymore, it snapped in two. Today was the latter.

Nicholas blinked and he was in German class.

“In” was another fluid word. Physically, he was “in” German class. But he couldn’t remember the last time he was in anything but his own mind. A point that was highlighted by his German teacher saying his name. “Nicholas,” Mrs. Weber said. Mrs. Weber had always liked him, always smiled when he came in, always gave him the benefit of the doubt when his poor grammar made the sentences nonsensical. She cocked her head, attempting to see past the walls Nicky had placed in his mind. Judging by the small, thin-framed glasses perched on her nose, Nicholas wondered if she could see through anything. She placed his final on his desk, upside down. Mrs. Weber leaned in, voice soft, “¿_Está todo bien?”_

Nicholas looked past her to the whiteboard. On the board, in neat cursive script, was written _Keine englische zone. _Luckily, no English zone still let enough room for Spanish, a language that came easier for both of them.

Nicholas felt the weight of his note in his pocket, the turned over final on his desk (they both knew what it meant), and the language on her tongue. Despite her last name, Mrs. Weber was a small Hispanic woman, with small wireframe glasses and salt and pepper hair. She’d been his favorite teacher for all four years of high school. She’d known him better than anyone else in this school.

But she could imagine her sad stare. The disappointment in her eyes. God, where would he even start?

“_Mir geht es gut_,” Nicholas said, switching into the less comfortable but also less noticeable German, pressing a thin smile to his lips. They both knew it was a lie, just his words meant nothing about whether or not he was ‘good,’ so he adjusted his statement. “_Ich bin nur müde.”_

That was true. Nicholas was more than tired, he was _exhausted._ He wiped his eyes to show that and Mrs. Weber’s soft smile came to her lips. She kept walking through the aisles, placing more tests on more student’s desk. Nicholas kept his eyes bent towards his desk, avoiding the eyes of his classmates. Of course, no one was really watching, even though Nicky’s mind told him otherwise. They were all wrapped up in their own poorly constructed German conversations.

A lifetime ago (not a real lifetime, just three months spent in the worst kind of summer camp and a semester living with the effects of it), Nicky would’ve been talking more than the loudest of them. He would’ve laughed with Cameron, who was on the debate team and only took German because Alice took German and who laughed at his own jokes when no one else did. He would’ve asked Taylor what she was doodling in the corners of her notebook, then copied her notes when he’d inevitably stopped paying attention to try to coax her into drawing his portrait instead. He wouldn’t have had to lie to Mrs. Weber.

Nicholas turned his test over on his desk. In the same neat handwriting that graced the board, a large cursive ‘F’ was written at the top of his paper, along with a quick note, this time in English: ‘See me after class.’

Nicholas turned the sheet back over. It wasn’t unexpected (how could it be when he hadn’t even tried to study?) but it was disappointing. He was barely getting by in his other classes, but German was impossible to get a decent grade in without putting in all the work. And Nicky knew he hadn’t. Even now, he wasn’t paying a drop of attention to the vocab words that Mrs. Weber was giving to the class.

Nicholas blinked and the bell was ringing. No one had even tried to talk to him at this point. After a full semester of ignoring them, they must’ve gotten the hint. Of course, that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He swept up his backpack and stood with him,

Mrs. Weber was standing at the board, wiping down the _Keine englische zone _sign away, but Nicholas saw her eyes on him anyway. It wasn’t like him to leave without talking to him, but he hadn’t been “like him” for a while now. “Nicky,” she started, in her soft teacher way, the way that said _I care, listen to me. _“It’s been a while.”

Nicholas shifted on his feet, changed the grip on his backpack. It wasn’t just the latter part of what she said (it had been almost a year since they had last talked like this, which is the scientific definition of while, maybe longer) but his name in her mouth. Really, he preferred the name Nicky, but he knew what his father would do if he used that name now. The name would be too childish, too girly, too—

“I prefer Nicholas now, actually,” Nicholas lied.

“Oh,” Mrs. Weber said, a small frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “Right. Well, _Nicholas_, I’m glad you could stay behind to talk to me.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that, Mrs. Weber, I’ll—"

“Actually, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” She moved behind her desk, smoothing her hands over the papers on the surface. “The German club is taking applications for a study abroad in Munich.”

Nicholas blinked at her, eyes wide. “I—I haven’t attended any meetings since last year.”

“I know. But you’re still one of my most promising students. And I think the experience could really benefit you.”

Nicholas knew it was a biased belief, coming from her. She’d told him about her experience taking German in high school, then moving to Germany for college. How the experience of being in a foreign country had changed her life plans completely.

He would’ve liked to believe it was true, what with all the hope she threaded into the words, but Nicholas knew that a future wasn’t something someone like he could hope for.

She sighed, seeing his thoughts in her mind. That was the problem with knowing her for that long; she knew more about him than he knew about himself sometimes. “Look. We’re taking three students. If you’re accepted, you’ll receive a scholarship for half of the tuition.” 

She handed him a brochure. Nicholas flipped to the back, barely bothering to look at the smiling faces and cartoon globes. The entire back cover was a list of benefits of study abroad. Nicholas’s eyes instantly gravitated towards one of them. “A new environment helps promote self-discovery.”

Nicholas had dreamed for night after night of being somewhere new, where no one knew his name. He could be whoever he wanted. He could become whoever he wanted. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have to lie.

Nicholas blinked and he was in.

Mrs. Weber obviously saw the shift in his eyes. “The link to the application is online. If you can pull your grades up before finals, I’m sure you’ll be a great candidate.”

Nicholas let the feeling of hope run through his chest. Yes, there were still issues. The cost for one. Whether or not his parents would let him go at all, for second. But for the moment, he let the hope claw through his visions of small German towns, blue skies, and a version of himself that he didn’t hate.


End file.
